


Too many legs under the table.

by intherubble



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intherubble/pseuds/intherubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like with most things they blame Niall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too many legs under the table.

**Author's Note:**

> written February 2012
> 
> ( **warning for light homophobic language** )

Like with most things they blame Niall. Though  _blame_ might not really be the right word cause it’s not really something they’re upset about. It’s just his fault it started.

Sometimes after shows they’re just too tired, or need to get on the road straightaway, or have trouble finding girls that aren’t screaming and crying in their faces. It’s a hassle to manage a hook up that _S_ _ugarscape_ won’t find out about and girlfriends can’t come on tour. They get as hard-up as any teenager.

Niall doesn’t mean to complain that much. It’s just that he tends to run his mouth when he’s drunk and when you’re horny it’s hard to think about anything other than how long it’s been since you’ve had a proper snog. "C _hrist_ , Niall,” he hears, “S _hut. Up_.” And then Harry is tossing his magazine aside and pressing into Niall’s space, catches Niall’s mouth with his own before he can manage a _W_ _hat are you doing?_

It wasn’t  _that_  usual of a thing to happen. Zayn and Liam had kissed before, Zayn even told some Portuguese teen rag about it while Liam’s face flamed.

Harry isn’t pulling back and laughing it off though. He's pushing Niall into the arm of the couch, climbing over him, nudging Niall’s nose to get him to tilt his head. Harry sucks on Niall’s lower lip and Niall isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be letting this happen, if this is some sort of gay chicken test he’s losing, but he’s muzzy with champagne and his hand flits from Harry’s shoulder to his side, not pushing or pulling. “You said you wanted a snog, you twat. So why aren’t you snogging me,” Harry mutters against Niall’s slack mouth.

“Possibly because Niall has some sense of common decency,” Niall jerks his head to the side, may have forgotten that they weren’t the only ones in the room. Zayn’s nose is wrinkled, arms crossed over his chest and Liam seems a little uncomfortable next to him.

Harry sits up so he’s on his knees over Niall’s prone form, flips them off, “Fuck you. I should be charging to watch, you little deviant.” Niall’s still slightly confused as to what exactly is happening.

Zayn makes a disgusted noise and gets up, heads for the door, “You homos can do what you like while us lads play xbox.”

“Speak for yourself, mate,” Louis chimes, leaning back and kicking a leg over the other, “I was thinking about making some popcorn.”

Zayn gets that nauseated _H_ _ow am I in this band?_ look on his face when Harry shoots Louis a pleased grin, jiggles the doorhandle. “ _Liam?_ ” he tries, sounding desperate, and Liam gets up, follows him out of the room obediently.

Harry turns back to Niall, unfazed, leans down and fits their mouths together. Niall moves into it, goes up onto his elbows so he can kiss back. if Harry’s good enough of a friend to volunteer his warm body in a time of need, who is Niall to refuse? He lets his hands settle on Harry’s thighs, holding him steady where he’s kneeling over Niall’s waist, feels Harry’s fingers touch down on his shoulders, squeeze lightly. 

It’s not a kiss that’s meant to go somewhere, just comfortable and slow lips molding together and apart. Harry nips at Niall, licks into his mouth when it opens to huff a laugh. It comes out a little too breathy to be a laugh though and Niall tries to pull back slightly, get some air, ends up buckling his elbows so he’s on his back, Harry bent over him. His mind chooses to idle on the way Harry’s lips look puffed up, if Louis is still watching and thinking the same thing,  to distract from the panic that should probably be setting in as Harry shuffles down so he can stretch out on top of Niall, presses their chests together. Niall feels his own pulse kick up a bit, Harry’s thumb tracing the rhythm on his neck as his features crowd Niall’s vision, going blurry with closeness.

Harry’s brows are furrowed like Niall is a riddle that apparently needs to be solved with his tongue because he’s slipped it past Niall’s teeth, cupping a hand to the back of Niall’s head to open him up for it. Niall sighs, brushes his tongue against Harry’s like saying  _hello_ , thinks it feels nice, swooping sensation in his stomach. Harry always did have a pretty mouth. He wonders if it makes this gayer that he can’t seem to keep his eyes from drooping closed, reaches up to circle Harry’s wrist in his fingers, strokes at the thin skin there.

They make out like that on the couch for a while, mouths hot and sweet with champagne, and Harry lets Niall roll them so he’s on top, hand at the jut of Harry’s hip.

Louis is gone by the time Niall eases off of Harry, falling onto his back squished beside him. his shorts are tented obviously, but Niall’s pretty positive Harry has a stiffy too. He reaches down to adjust himself, may squeeze more than’s necessary, unsure about what happens now. Harry clasps a hand over his eyes, laughs raw sounding, and Niall hopes it’s at the absurdity of the situation and not him. He runs his tongue along his braces self-consciously and stares up at the ceiling but feels better when Harry turns to muffle his laughter in his neck.

-

Niall climbs into Harry’s bunk the next night, doesn’t do anything at first, just lays there shiftily like he’s waiting for something. Doesn’t know what the protocol for bros snogging is. Harry rolls his eyes, a little impatient himself, “Alright then, get on with it.” he turns his head and Niall is looking at him, chewing his lip to bite down a grin. 

Niall hooks a knee over Harry’s so he’s on his side, head tilted down to kiss him. It works for Harry because he can just lay back and bask in the attention, his fingers twisting into Niall’s belt loop. 

It also means that it’s hard to ignore when Niall’s hips start to move slightly, rocking against Harry, making quiet noises muffled by their tongues. Harry’s not completely sure how he feels about it, certainly not bad though, decides to let it happen. Scoots to the side so he’s more under Niall than next to him, tugs at Niall’s shoulder til he gets the hint. 

They go back to kissing easily, Niall propped on his elbows. He ruts at Harry, falteringly at first, then more confident when Harry doesn’t protest. 

Harry doesn’t say anything when Niall nuts off in his pants, going shivery then still and fleeing in the ensuing hush. Tries not to think about it when he immediately reaches to jerk off fast and breathless after.

-

After that it’s some _I_ _f You Give a Mouse a Cookie_  shit.  If you give a Niall a boner he’s going to want a handjob. 

-

Liam can’t sleep and laying in the dark his bunk feels increasingly like a coffin. It’s not a surprise when he finds Zayn in the lounge at the back of the bus. The TV’s on but Zayn’s eyes seem glazed over, face wavering in the light of changing channels. Liam knocks Zayn’s legs off the couch so he can sit down, presses their knees together. Zayn keeps channel surfing, flicking over reruns and infomercials, it gets up into the higher channels and a chick taking her bikini off flashes by but Zayn keeps going, on autopilot. It must register a second later because the channel flipping stops and then slowly clicks backwards. It’s some late night skinemax channel, two vapid blonds are lounging poolside and topless. Zayn glances over at him like he’s seeking approval, if this is cool. Liam shrugs slightly and slouches further into the couch.

It turns out one of the girls is a detective or something, but the mystery only really exists to waste time between sex scenes. Zayn gives Liam an easy grin when he can’t help but point out all the plot holes.

It’s softcore so there’s a lot of strategically draped hair and odd camera angles but chicks eating each other out are chicks eating each other out. Liam’s almost ashamed for getting hard despite how contrived it all is. He thinks about begging off to go to bed with some excuse, as if Zayn won’t know why and probably rip the shit out of him for it. He opens his mouth to say something but when he looks over Zayn has a hand over his crotch,  _flexing_  it. 

It hits Liam like being suddenly cognizant of your breathing and blinking and then not being able to think about anything else. Feels suddenly hyperaware of everything, conscious of every inch of his own skin. Is this how he normally sits? Was the movie really this loud? Are his hands always so fucking big and stupid looking sitting on his thighs like that?

Alright so Zayn has a boner too. No big deal. Liam’s never had the type of mates who watch porn together but his entire life since joining this band has been an exercise in invasions of personal space. Maybe this is inconsequential. Liam doesn’t think he knows what normal is anymore, maybe this is something normal mates do. 

Then Liam realizes he’s been gawking at Zayn palming his dick for longer than is probably socially acceptable, if any of this is, and that Zayn is watching him do it. He meets Zayn’s eyes guiltily, wonders if he’s supposed to apologize, but Zayn doesn’t really seem weirded out. He’s just staring at Liam sort of contemplatively, pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and Liam has this crazy moment where he thinks Zayn is  _smoldering_ at him. Watches in a daze as Zayn’s eyes track down his body and land very deliberately on where Liam’s hard-on is tenting his sweats. Thinks he might be paralyzed when Zayn inexplicably raises his eyebrows and says, “You wanna...?” quiet and sounding oddly intense. That question could end in a lot different ways and Liam should probably confirm it wasn’t meant to be “...  _fuck off_.” But he’s pretty sure he knows what Zayn means and he feels himself nodding dumbly before his mind gives permission.

The hand that’s been sitting over Zayn’s crotch moves to split his pants open and Liam fumbles to do the same, clumsy on some type of adrenaline high. He gets himself in hand and is almost too scared to see if Zayn does too, if this was a joke and Zayn will mock him for going through with it. But the hitch in Zayn’s intake of breath tells him they’ve gone past the point of joking.

He tries to pay attention to what’s happening on the screen, rehearsed moans and swearing, but he can’t stop being  _aware_  of Zayn next to him. The heat of his side and the soft intimate sounds of his hand moving over his dick are speeding up Liam’s heartbeat more than anything else. His eyes flick to the door, terrified of Harry or god forbid  _Louis_ walking in, then go unfocused. He thinks it would be best to just get off as fast as possible so he doesn’t do anything stupid... but then Zayn’s leg is rubbing up against his.

He thinks it’s an accident at first, squeezes himself at the base to ease the punch of arousal the physical contact causes. Then it’s happening again, Zayn’s knee nudging his, cautious but calculated. His gaze snaps to Zayn who’s peering at him with these half lidded eyes. Liam swallows nervously and Zayn licks his lips, whispers, “Don’t freak out.” Then he’s reaching over, pushing Liam’s hand aside, making him suck in air sharp. This is definitely no longer normal  _friend_ behavior.

Zayn strokes him slow and deliberate and Liam tries to get the rise and fall of his chest under control. He realizes a minute later he should probably be returning the favor and gropes blindly for Zayn’s cock. Zayn hisses through his teeth when Liam’s fingers find the slickness at the tip. It’s weird from this angle because he’s not a lefty and especially because  _it’s someone else’s dick_.

Liam questions if he’s supposed to act like he’s still watching the TV but he doesn’t think he can or is going to last very long anyway. Their elbows knock awkwardly so Zayn switches hands but that means he’s stretching across himself, bodily turning towards Liam, eliminating any pretense that this is still about the porno.

Liam feels Zayn’s humid breath puffing over the sweat gathering at his collar bone and then their foreheads are somehow pressed together, hands still tugging each other off. Their mouths are close enough to touch, noses bumping and Liam can see each of Zayn’s eyelashes. They don’t kiss but Liam can sense the intention of it like a phantom and Zayn is making this throaty noise that sounds like _L_ _i, Li, Li_.

When Zayn comes his hips jerk, pulls this tortured face and it’s frightening how it makes Liam’s heart stutter.

-

Zayn pushes a window open to sneak a fag after they clean up and Liam thinks it makes the whole thing seem sordid somehow. 

-

Harry hates how Louis always gets pissy when Danielle comes to visit Liam and he hasn’t seen Eleanor in a while. (Zayn tends to get snippy too but Harry’s not as sure why.) He wouldn’t care that much but Louis gets slobber all over his iphone when he borrows it to facetime El and tries to make out with the screen.

He’s acting even more like a sullen child than usual, arms crossed over his chest while watching the scenery of the M1 fly by, obviously waiting for Harry to ask him what’s wrong. Harry kicks him with a socked foot. “Stop being a twat.” Louis  _hmmp_ ’s and turns further towards the window. Harry wiggles his toes into Louis’ side til he breaks, giggles and slaps at Harry’s ankle.

“Really Lou, what is it?” Harry slides closer to him on the couch and flicks his ear.

“Nothing,  _young Harold_ ,” Louis' voice's filled with cheek and he pauses. Harry thinks he’s finished and is going to make him pry harder then, “Only that I thought  _I_  was your favorite.” 

“ _Aw_ , sweetums,” Harry needles, rubbing Louis’ arm, “You know you’re my one and only.”

Louis turns to him with a serious face but Harry can see the twitch at the corner of his lip that means he’s trying not to grin like a loon. “Well it’s just handjobs all over the place for Niall to cheer  _him_  up while  _I’ve_  just got a date with pam and her five friends. Do you not find me  _attractive_  anymore? Do you think I’ve gotten  _fat_?”

Harry almost lets out a balk of laughter at the ridiculousness that is Louis sulking over him wanking off Niall but manages to swallow it. He makes a  _shhh shhh_ noise and goes to stroke Louis’ head but he wails, “ _You never tell me you love me anymore!_ ” and buries his face in Harry’s neck.

He sniffles dramatically as Harry pats his shoulder, then sort of subdues into nuzzling Harry’s neck, “ _Mmmm_ , you smell good Hazza.” They both snicker, Louis tilts his chin up to grin stupidly and Harry doesn’t really think about it, just pecks him a kiss, likes the way it makes Louis’ smile go liquid. They look at each other for a moment, Louis’ eyes little crescents, and then Louis kisses him, pulls back just as fast.

Harry’s not really sure what the rules of this new game are but it turns into something like one of their tickle fights except with kisses. Limbs flailing and giddiness bubbling in Harry’s chest as Louis peppers kisses from his ear to his nose. It’s light and fun until, intentionally or not, their mouths start finding each other more often than anything else and the laughter dies to the soft sound of their lips sliding together.

Harry realizes his eyes have slid shut, Louis’ fingers tangled in his curls, and then Louis is pulling back, lecherously murmurs, “Want to take this somewhere more  _private?_ ” and somehow his waggling eyebrows manage to take the piss and turn Harry on at the same time.

-

Niall pulls the curtain to Harry’s bunk open and Harry freezes where he has a hand down Louis’ briefs. They’re both breathing heavy but Louis calmly says, “Alright there, Niall?”

Niall doesn’t really seem bothered, “Ah sorry there lads.” And tugs the curtain shut again.

“Oi, Liam!” they hear.

-

Niall is a good friend. He dutifully listens to Liam have an existential crisis over what he did with Zayn, pats his leg reassuring, “Whats a wank between friends, yeah?” Liam nods dubiously and Niall grins, “Speaking of...”

Niall is also like a puppy that follows you home, you couldn’t tell him no even if you wanted. 

-

The next night Niall decides to try crawling into Zayn’s bunk... and is promptly shoved back out onto the floor. He rubs his arse and walks it off easily enough though.

He has better luck the next week when Danielle comes to the show and Liam takes her out afterwards. Zayn is taciturn all night and doesn’t protest more than _H_ _ow the fuck do you know what taciturn means?_ when Niall straddles him on the couch, goes for his trouser fly.

If you give a Niall a handjob he’s going to want to try sucking you off.

-

It’s amazing how everything and nothing can change at the same time. It’s another coy inside joke Harry and Louis hint at in interviews while Liam’s sense of PR preservation goes haywire trying to figure out a way to derail them and Zayn covers his face in disbelief. Now instead of the puppy dog look Louis apologizes by blowing Liam in the tourbus bathroom. It’s tiny like the ones on airplanes and Louis likes to say they joined the 80kph club.

Liam would protest about the sanitariness of it but doesn’t really have a chance to because Louis just follows him in, shuts the door, busies his hands and mouth before Liam can get in a word.

Liam accidentally tugs too hard on the flimsy plastic towel rack when he comes, jerking into the circle of Louis’ lips, and it cracks, snapping off the wall. Louis chokes, laughing and wiping jizz off his chin with the back of his wrist. “Woah there sailor,” he rasps, but he’s still milking the last of it out of Liam so he’s too focused on keeping his knees steady to be embarrassed.

In their next interview Harry makes a remark about Liam  _working_  out so much he can’t control his strength and is wrecking the bus. Zayn ruffles the shorn hairs at the back of Liam’s neck when he can’t help his cheeks from heating.

-

Harry knows things have gotten out of control when they find themselves trashed and squished in the in bus lounge with an empty bottle rattling around on the table.

“Is this seriously happening right now?”  Zayn looks like he thinks it’s as juvenile as it probably is. 

“Oh, don’t try and act innocent, Wayne Wazik,” Louis chides in this mother hen tone, “We all heard you and Niall sucking each other off last night.”

Zayn scowls, “Whatever, that doesn’t mean I want to play seven minutes in heaven with you queers.”

“Hey, I still have a girlfriend,” Liam interjects defensively and Zayn makes a face like he’s perfectly aware of that fact.

“As do I,“ Louis adds loftily, “also this is spin the bottle, arsehole, watch your language...and without further ado...” He leans forward and spins the empty beer with a flourish. It turns for so long it starts to make Harry nauseous, wondering what it means about them that this of all things is what they’ve resorted to for entertainment. Like they’re going all  _Lord of the Flies_ in their insular little world. Or maybe that literary reference doesn’t make sense. He’d just skimmed it in school. 

Zayn grumbles, “ _Fuck_  this game,” and Harry realizes the bottle’s slowed to point smack at Liam.

Louis grins evilly, looks pointedly at Zayn while making a show of sauntering around the cramped space to stand in front of Liam whose eyes are bulging like a trapped animal, “Liam’s already well acquainted with my mouth.” Zayn’s expression darkens, Louis tacks on, “and its  _talents_.”

Niall rolls his eyes, taking a swig from his beer, “Just get on with it, you pillock.” Louis looks like he’s going to retort because he hates not having the last word, then just slides into Liam’s lap, grabs him by the ears, “Pucker up, big boy.” Louis goes in for it cartoonishly, licks a fat stripe from Liam’s chin to the underside of his nose. Liam winces, raises a hand like he’s going to wipe away the spit, but Harry grabs one wrist and Niall the other, so he’s helpless to Louis’ slobber. But Louis transitions from laying smacking pecks on Liam’s mouth to real lingering kisses and Liam settles into it, kisses back. Louis wiggles a bit farther onto Liam’s lap with a quiet sound, Harry sees his thumb skirt down Liam’s cheekbone, a flash of tongue, and the hand in Harry’s grip flexes. Hhe’s pretty sure if he let it go now it wouldn’t push Louis away.

“Is there some sort of time frame,” Zayn breaks the odd hush that’s fallen over them, “Cause it’s been like at least two minutes.”

Louis climbs off Liam, subtly adjusts himself while making his way back to his seat, sniffs, “Green isn’t a good color on you, Zayn.” Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone give the middle finger with their eyes before but Zayn is making a good try of it.

Liam is flaming red, clears his throat, “Uhm, my turn then?”

After that it goes easy and entertaining enough, empty beer bottles piling up around them, Liam kisses Niall who returns it bright and enthusiastic, Niall’s tongue gets Zayn to loosen up a bit but he still slaps his hand out of his hair. Zayn and Harry actually get a little carried away, Harry’s hands bunched in Zayn’s leather jacket pulling him closer, and when they separate he sees Zayn send a smirk Louis’ way but  _bothered_ isn’t what Harry would call the heat in Louis’ eyes. It goes on like that, kisses getting sloppier and longer, taking breaks to burp and then drunkenly laughing too hard to start kissing again.

Wwhen Zayn’s spin lands on Liam for the first time his eyes go all serious, his Adam’s apple moving under the skin. They all shuffle over so there’s room when Zayn stands up to sit next to Liam on the couch. There’s a nervous still, then they move in slow, eyes locked, and Harry has this crush of a feeling like he shouldn’t be watching. Can’t help it.

It looks like Zayn just rests their heads together for a second, noses at Liam so he tilts his head, then closes the gap, eyes slipping shut. It’s just gentle lipping at each other at first, tentative and careful. Harry can see the dip in Zayn’s brow smoothing out, watches him place a hand on the curve of Liam’s knee.

The three of them watch Liam and Zayn go at it, too breathless to make any remarks about how they’ve certainly met the bottle’s requirements. Zayn’s hand tracks its way up Liam’s thigh at an excruciating pace, or excruciating for Liam, Harry imagines, because there’s a telltale bulge at his zipper and Harry’s pretty sure they’re all in the same state. 

When Zayn finally palms Liam’s dick, Liam lets out this choked moan, fingers white at the back of Zayn’s neck, and Harry hears this needy little sound from next to him. Then Niall is tugging at his wrist, climbing on to him, tongue hot and insistent. Niall’s hands are on the skin of his waist, sliding under his shirt, and he thinks he’s managed to grow a third one before he realizes it’s Louis’ combing through his curls. He turns from Niall’s kiss and Louis is right there, catching Harry’s mouth, licking in shallowly. Louis’ teeth sink into Harry’s bottom lip, makes him rut up at Niall’s fingers undoing the catch of his jeans. Louis lets him go, lips all bruised and swollen, and Niall is whining low in his throat, leaning in to kiss Louis. 

Under the arch of Niall and Louis’ chins bumping together, Niall’s hands on his cock and Louis’ in his hair, he can see Zayn on his knees in front of Liam, who looks like he’s biting his knuckles bloody, and thinks it’s really like they’ve gone feral on their own little island.


End file.
